


muse (klance high school au)

by mywriting_con



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywriting_con/pseuds/mywriting_con
Summary: Keith doesn't know any music. Lance knows way too much. Romance ensues.





	muse (klance high school au)

**Author's Note:**

> just a couple of guys being dudes

As far as Keith could tell, today was gonna suck. He felt it like an oncoming storm and accepted it. It wasn't even first period before he made this sudden realization. In fact, he hadn't even entered the school. He was fiddling with the rip in his jeans in the seat closest to the door of the bus. He had decided that no music he knew of could set his mood right and therefore gave up on searching through his numbered list of songs on his phone but kept his earbuds in, both out of laziness and to send a message that he was not to be disturbed.

The voice behind him added to the unsettling forecast of the day. 

"Aren't we getting that one history project today? Mr. Edwards was rambling on about a huge grade coming up? God knows he's evil enough to give it to us just after our last oral project..."

Great. Keith thought to himself. Just what I need right now. 

Only mere minutes later and the bus found its destination as rowdy high school students all flooded out into the large and depressing school grounds. Keith always waited until the very last kid was out the door. It wasn't worth being trampled over. Today was no exception. 

He stood up and looked behind him expecting an empty back of the bus but instead catching the eye of none other than Lance McClain, looking intensely disheveled and downcast. His earbuds were in, and his leg was bobbing up and down absentmindedly. The same question bobbed back into Keith's mind just as it does every time he catched a glimpse at the slightly standoffish but exceedingly kind Cuban teen. What could he possibly be thinking about? And just like always, Keith shakes his head to clear the thought away and walks off. Why Lance McClain was sat in the back of the bus with an aura of unpleasantness after everyone had already filed out would remain a mystery, and Keith was not about to waste what little concentration he had on figuring him out.

Earbuds still in, Keith enters the crowded hallway and travels the familiar path to his locker. He passes Mr. Edwards' class, reminding him of the upcoming all nighters and gallons of gas station monsters he was about to endure again. With a sigh, he drops his backpack under locker 331 and swings it open. Some might say a lock would be smart to invest in, what with the reputation of the school, but Keith decides that stealing from him would be counter intuitive. 

"What's got you capital D Depressed?" Keith hears the voice he'd been expecting at any moment. He doesn't bother to turn around. 

"God only knows. I stopped trying to figure it out at this point."

"Hmm. You heard about the history project?" Shiro ventures. 

"Indeed. The reckoning is upon us, brother. My guess is Edwards was just waiting for an opportunity to arise to scrutinize his underperforming students. He has a number of set projects on his curriculum and I guess he wants to whack em all at us without giving us a second to breathe. What a sadist."

"Damn straight." Shiro agrees with a curt nod. "Anyway, I figure you're gonna need some more LRC time? I can go hang with Hunk for a while after school and wait for you so I can drive you home."

"Or I can walk? The house isn't that far away."

"Forecast is calling for rain."

"I'll manage."

"Is this you trying to distance yourself from me?" Shiro calls out, lagging behind Keith as he slams his locker shut with the appropriate books in hand. 

"This is expected of you angsty and hormonal teenagers. Want me to lend you my Black Parade CD?"

"Definitely. And while you're at it, how do you feel about me with neon green hair? The kind that looks like a radioactive lizard took a dump on me?"

"Would definitely suit you." Shiro responds solemnly. "See ya." He waves goodbye and sets down the hallway opposite Keith's. Keith smiles just for a small second and walks off to first period, thankful he had some time before dreaded third period history. He trudges in and sits at his usual spot towards the back of the classroom but still in the middle of the room. 

He's setting his books down when he glances towards the corner and yet again spots the same disheveled boy he saw on the bus. Lance McClain was never early to first period, rarely ever early to any class for that matter. His earbuds were still in, and the same leg was creating the constant rhythm as on the bus, and his backpack was slumped next to his desk, as per usual. Keith didn't think much of it, maybe he had a sudden change of heart? It seemed unlikely but Keith was determined not to give it too much thought. Lance was someone he could think about for hours and still not figure out. He had half given up on the concept sometime late last year. 

"There's my favourite emo! Keith Kogane, the man, the myth, the legend."

"Hey Pidge." Keith greeted the short haired human rapidly approaching his desk.  
"Why the hype? I'm no more special than I was the last time you saw me."

"Am I not allowed to be excited to see my best friend after thirty long years of solitude?"

"Pidge, you were gone for two days. And with how badly you described that stomach virus, you probably didn't even have time to miss me between throwing up and watching nature documentaries. Are you even well enough to be at school?"

"I didn't know my mom went to school with me? But yes, I am fine and well thanks to my constant rest and support from my mullet pal."

Keith let's out a scoff. "That's never gonna catch on you know."

"Nonsense mullet pal, it suits you."

"Stop."

"Stop what mullet pal?"

"Jesus Christ Pidge, you want a punch to the gut this early in the morning?"

The bell rings and Pidge takes their seat behind him. 

"Maybe not."

The rest of the students had already taken their seats as well and Ms. James enters the room with that same soft but forced smile on her face as always. She introduces the lesson plan but Keith finds to his great frustration that he can't focus on her drawl. Cause: a certain Cuban boy to the far left. He wasn't even doing anything in particular, but now that there was no interesting distraction to keep his eyes from trailing off, Keith finds himself slowly losing himself in Lance's character. 

He has a soft smile playing on his lips, the usage of the word 'playing' paying tribute to the way it danced to the music Lance still refused to turn off. Yes his aura was one of a downer but his face subtly counteracted it. The question of what was happening in his mind was still grabbing at Keith's attention but a new and rarely brought upon question resurfaced: What was he listening to? 

Seeing Lance with earbuds had become so familiar that every once in a blue moon when he had them out it felt strange and irregular, like some holy image had just been tarnished. God only knows how much music Lance McClain had listened to in his entire life. Has he always listened to music this religiously? Was there a reason for the constant blocking out of reality? On what occasions does he take those things out? How come all of our teachers were okay with it? Why would-

"Keith, for God's sake, are you deaf?"  
Pidge rudely snaps Keith out of the accidental Lance bubble of thought he had created. 

"What?"

"Did you hear a word of what Ms. James just said?" 

Keith shakes his head, not really in the mood to lie. 

Pidge just sighs and points to Lance. "While you were busy being gay for the latino, she told us we could get a jumpstart on our homework. Partner work accepted."

Keith just furrows his eyebrows. "I'm not gay for Lance? I-"

"Jesus Keith, just open your book so we can get this finished. We're gonna need all the time we can spare for the English project."

"You heard about that too?" 

"When people find out the apocalypse is coming, word spreads. Now hurry up, I'm actually trying to get you to be studious for once. 

"Yeah, okay." He flips for the right page and takes out his notebook. Pidge switches to the seat next to him and pulls the desks together. As always, Pidge flies through the work, then sighs and tells Keith to just copy, reminding him that some day he's not gonna be able to get by with cheating off of them. 

He quickly scribbles down the answers he fully trusts are correct and then spends the rest of the hour chatting with Pidge. At one moment or another he spares a glance towards his left. As he should be, Lance was working on the homework, leg bobbing at a slower pace than before, Keith noticed, and that same dancer of a smile lit up his dark features.

                                    ~~~

"So I'm guessing just about every one of you has heard about the new project?"  
Mr. Edwards says with a smug smile. Half of the class groans while a few off guard expletives were muttered by the other half of the class that apparently was not informed. 

"I expect 100% effort from each and every one of you. You are all completely capable." More groans sound off around the room, including Keith's own. 

"Look at the lot of you, I haven't even handed out the assignment!" Mr. Edwards huffs, gathering the exact sheets of paper from his desk and handing it to the closest student to hand out to the rest of us. Keith grudgingly takes the paper handed to him and mutters a quiet thanks as his eyes scan the beginning of hell for him. Any remaining hope that he had melted in a blink, as he stared at the words 'My Historical Hero essay'. 

"'My Historical Hero' it says. By taking a quick look at the instructions at the top of your sheet, can anybody quickly summarize what you will be doing for the next few weeks?" Mr. Edwards' smug smile returned, giving Keith the sudden urge to let Mr. Edwards take that early morning punch to the gut. 

A hand went up and someone explained: "You have to pick a certain figure in history, one that you admire, and then write an essay..."

"Re-read Miss Fontana."

"Write... multiple essays on your person of choice. One for each stage of their life." Anonymous student was left with mouth gaping open at the satisfied teacher standing before us, in all his merciless and sadistic glory. 

"That is exactly right. One essay for early life, mid life, and adult life. Four pages each. MLA format, you know the drill. And of course, works. cited." Keith felt sure that the entire classroom itself was on the verge of insanity. Every student in the room was staring at Mr. Edwards, some with eyes full of scathing hatred and others with tears forming. 

"I will not take any moaning or groaning, I have cut you all way too much slack. The guilt of lazy teaching weighs down on me constantly and it was not until today that I felt that curse be," He sighs. "lifted off my shoulders." He gestures grandly as if pulling something heavy off of his shoulders and throwing it out the window, his European sense of theatricality not failing him now. 

"As I am not entirely insane, I will let you use the next few weeks of class time to work on your papers. Not that the homework will let up,  we have to keep those developing brains sharp. Now, up and at 'em! You all have some writing to do!" And then he turned around, marched back to his desk, and plopped himself into his desk chair, leaving the entire class baffled. 

He cleared his throat and averted his attention to his open laptop, finding some teacher activity to get on to. Slowly the students dispersed into small groups to get started, which was mostly just cursing every god to ever exist that Mr. Edwards existed. As Keith had no actual friends in third hour, he was content with sitting at his desk and silently fuming about stupid history class in his lonesome. 

                                   ~~~  
When Keith walks out of third period, he is in such an angry state that he can barely think straight as he marches to algebra. Pidge smiles at him as he enters but that smile is replaced with a knowing look of mutual irritation when they see how upset Keith is. His books slam on the desk in front of Pidge, startling the few in the classroom already, one of which, yet again, was Lance. Keith faltered for a moment, caught off guard. Lance? Early again? Had he been early for second and third period as well? What was with him today? Why the sudden-

"Keith. I swear to God. You looked like you were about to throw someone off a cliff just a second ago and now you just look like you're pondering over an equation you don't understand. Are we angry about Mr. Edwards or?"

"Oh we are definitely angry about Mr. Edwards." Keith snaps back just as quickly as he was distracted. "We are acrimonious at the thought of Mr. Edwards. We are belligerent. That censorious, pretentious, egotistical, euphuistic son of a-"

"Slow your roll there Webster, you might run out of synonyms." Pidge raises their hands placatingly. Genuine anger can be felt radiating off of the tall raven haired teen and Pidge decides what's best for him. 

"Maybe you should skip this class? We're all hella irritated with Mr. Edwards but I think you might actually have to take a minute or two to cool off." Pidge points at both of Keith's white knuckles and chuckles nervously. "Maybe sit this one out?"

"I'm fine Pidge. I'll live." Keith huffs and sits down across from them. 

Keith is staring down at his sickeningly pale knuckles when his attention is caught on Lance. God, why can't he stop distracting him? He watches as Lance taps his finger on his desk restlessly, and then abruptly decides to get up and walk out the door of the algebra room, Keith's eyes following his trail smoothly. His brows un-furrowed and shaped his face into gentle confusion. What the hell is up with Lance today? He wonders. Before that train of thought could leave the station though, the bell rang and Mrs. Antoinette entered hurriedly into the classroom. 

"I'm guessing you are all wondering why I'm late." She assumes, pushing her glasses up and tidying her dangerously tight bun. Not really. 

"I was just stopped by a first hour student of mine in the hallway, shoving a paper into my face and begging me to grade it. Right there, in the hallway. When I gave that student plenty of time in class to turn it in, they were talking to a fellow classmate. I had warned them not to forget to hand in the assignment but they simply waved their hand and went back to their conversation. Can you believe it? The utter audacity of you students. If I had done that back in my early school life-"

A unanimous groan sounded from just about every student, tired of Mrs. Antoinette's tales of how disciplined and courteous she was in her 'early school life'. What did 'early school life' even mean? 

Just say 'school' for god's sake. Keith thought to himself, remembering how worked up he was about Mr. Edwards, Mrs. Antoinette generously adding fuel to the fire. 

Mrs. Antoinette let out an indignant squeal, scaring a few students. 

"This is the kind of disrespectful behaviour I refuse to allow!" She bangs her fist into the table, not really achieving the intended affect but instead earning some silenced snickers. 

Mrs. Antoinette looked like she was about to explode. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it. Five textbook pages, ladies and gentlemen. The page I have on the board and the four after. Total silence. I don't want to hear a word come out of any of you, understood?" The looks on everyone's faces left her satisfied and as she walked back to her seat, a loud bang caused everyone to turn abruptly to Keith, who's fist had banged against his own desk, nails digging into the palm of his hand hard enough that he could feel the wet heat of blood starting to appear. 

Keith didn't have time to feel embarrassed. His face was flushed and he could feel anger bubbling in his stomach, fist shaking with the need for it to collide with somebody's jaw. 

Pidge simply stared at him then let their gaze drop to his bleeding hands. 

"Woah. Okay, Keith? Just... ask to use the bathroom." Pidge whispered, shocked at the crimson threatening to spill onto the desk. "Chill out for a little."

Keith stared straight at Mrs. Antoinette, who looked the most shocked. He slowly raised his hand, watching her gaze follow it into the air. 

"Yes Keith?" She asks, frozen in place.

"May I please go to the restroom? 

"Of course you may." And with that Keith jumps to his feet and rushes out into the hallway, cradling his bleeding hand so as to not leave an ominous trail of blood leading to his destination. 

                                    ~~~

"Gah!" Keith exclaims, his hands stinging under the frigid water. The empty bathroom echoed the rush of the sink and his silent whimpering. He scrubbed his hands for a few more seconds and then turned the water off, watching as the blood obnoxiously returned, slowly, as if to prolong Keith's panic. 

"What the hell am I gonna do now?" He whispers to himself. 

"How'd you cut up your hand?" A voice behind Keith inquires. Keith turns to the sound. 

"Lance?" 

"Yup. That's my name." He says leaning on the wall behind Keith. He was subtly hidden by the stalls to his left, but how had Keith not seen him sooner? 

He had one earbud out, which made Keith feel weird. The one earbud meant that the other ear was there to listen. To hear Keith. 

Keith simply stood there and stared at the Cuban smiling at him. 

"Anything you wanna do about your hands? Or?" Keith is snapped back to reality. 

"Um, yeah. I need a- a bandaid? Probably." He turns back to face the mirror above the sinks, watching as Lance shouldered the backpack beside him and walks to Keith. 

"I'd say so. Don't you worry your pretty little mind, I've got a few in here I can fish out for you." He sets his backpack back down on the ground and kneels to rummage through its contents. 

"I always seem to have exactly what people need in here. It's strange. Or maybe I'm just Mary Poppins." He remarks taking out a couple of bandaids he apparently found at the very bottom of his bag. 

"Here." His hand is outstretched for Keith to take the bandaids. He just looks at him in the mirror. 

"Wouldn't that be stranger?"

"What?" Lance looks quizzically at him. Then he nods in understanding. 

"Being Mary Poppins? I suppose so. Oh, wowee. You did that to yourself?" Lance takes a quick look at the obviously self inflicted cuts along the palms of Keith's hands. "Here, I'll patch you up." And without a second thought he opens all three bandaids in his hand and sets the other two on the sink, grasping for Keith's right hand and gently bandaging him up. It felt a little awkward: Lance's physical contact, the roughness of his manner though trying to be soft, the bandaid splayed across his palm. Keith closed his hand and felt it come together and crinkle. 

"Well, maybe bandaids weren't the best choice." Lance chuckled nervously, surprising Keith. Why is Lance nervous around Keith? Why would he be nervous around anyone?

 

"I maybe have some gauze instead? Sorry about that." He quickly rips the bandaid off, earning a wince from Keith. 

"And about that." He looks up from the floor with an apologetic look. "I'll find it." His hand is back in his bag. Was it just Keith or did Lance seem a bit... ditzy?

"And here it is. Knew I had it." He quickly unwrapped a bit of gauze and carelessly ripped it off with his teeth. It sent a chill down Keith's spine for whatever reason. 

He watches the same rough but gentle hand as before wrap his hand up in gauze, then the other one. 

"Thanks." He mutters looking at his hands still. 

"No problemo. So what happened to cause this fatality?" Lance leans against the sink counter and watches Keith. 

"Oh, um. Mr. Edwards' class. Basically." Why couldn't Keith meet his eyes?

"I see. Heartless pricks make you angry, welcome to the club. You know, it wouldn't even be that bad if it weren't for how superior he thinks he is for assigning it? It's amazing how much satisfaction he he gets by watching us suffer."

Keith smiles and finally looks up. "What a sadist."

"Exactly. And let me guess, Mrs. Antoinette was no better?" Keith nods. Lance scoffs. 

"They'd make a great couple if it weren't for the fact that they're both married. Although, from what I hear, that's never really been a problem for Mr. Edwards." Keith's eyes widen. 

"Where exactly did you hear that?"

"Relatively small school. Gossip travels fast."

"When do you have the time to listen to it? The gossip?"

"Hmm?"

"With your music playing 24/7. How do you hear it?" Keith ventures, finishing the question and immediately feeling like he was overstepping. 

"I find my way. Drama queens always do." Lance hair flips, even though his hair barely reaches the nape of his neck. Keith laughs. "Sure." 

"Ever planning on going back to class? Or will you join me, and be lonely together?" Lance gestures around the bathroom. 

Keith frowns. "Are you lonely?" 

"Maybe. I think I am. Don't have enough context to compare my experience to anything else so, in my opinion, yes." He smiles, and if it weren't for Keith's excellent talent for reading people, he would've missed just the smallest hint of sadness in it. 

The both of them are silent for a moment. 

"Do you think I'm lonely?" Lance asks tentatively to clear the silent tension. 

"Maybe." Lance grins and Keith wonders how someone could make their face do something so wonderful. 

"What are you listening to?" Keith asks. Lance's grin fades into a soft and patient smile. 

"Interesting." Lance answers, leaving Keith puzzled. 

"Why is that interesting?" Lance only taps his fingers against the counter and narrows his eyes at Keith, as if there was something that Lance was trying to figure out about him. Then he does something unexpected. He takes out his earbuds and offers them to Keith, taking out his phone from his pocket in the same swift motion. Keith stands there and stares at the hand. 

"Take em. Make this more interesting." Lance nudges the phone and earbuds closer to Keith and Keith tentatively grasps them both. Instead of plugging the earbuds in, he simply fidgets with them, not sure how to proceed. 

"Oh for god's sake." Lance sighs and gingerly takes the earbuds. He plops them into Keith's ears, taking a second to let his forefinger scrape against Keith's neck before pulling back and watching Keith's face. 

He listens for a few moments, letting the sounds flood his ears. His eyes close instinctively, and he is left in his own world surrounded only by the feeling of warmth from the soft lyrics and instruments that he wasn't entirely expecting. 

I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back  
The less I give the more I get back  
Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise  
I don't have a choice but I still choose you

A few more seconds and he realized he had taken maybe too long to listen. His eyes fluttered open and he took out the earbuds. 

"What song was that?" Lance scoops back his device and stuffs it back into his ears. He smiles brightly, shoulders his backpack, then nods and walks past Keith and out of the bathroom. 

~~~

Keith stared at the computer screen before him, trying to miraculously think up someone to write about for his history essay. Or should he say, essays. 

His jaw clenched at the thought, but he realized after Lance had left during that cool down time in the bathroom that he was only wasting his time by being angry about it all. He looked down at his gauzed up hands and remembered the way Lance's hands reached forward to wrap them up, fumbling with it and trying to be gentle in a way that made Keith feel odd. 

He sighed and forced his gaze to the empty search bar. Who to write about, who to write about? Who in history is important to me? 

Consumed with boredom and frustration, Keith started pecking at the keyboard, typing random letters and numbers in simply to pass the time. Click clack click clack click-

He stopped, remembering something from fourth hour. 

I don't have a choice but I still choose you. 

He eagerly backspaced the nonsense in the search bar and typed in the one line he remembered. The search results popped up just as Pidge's head appeared hovering above the computer. 

"Any progress, mullet?" They ask. Keith panicked and clicked open a new tab. 

"Ah, so you've given up on mullet pal I see?"

Pidge shrugs "Mullet is short and to the point. Kinda like you. Now if I reopen that tab you were just on, please tell me I wouldn't find any genitalia on screen?"

"Pidge, I'm not watching porn. Especially not at school." 

"So you would watch it at home."

"Stop while you're ahead."

"Fine. What were you looking at?"

"It's nothing. Really, I was just-"

"No excuses. The curiosity is killing me." Pidge grabs the mouse from over the screen and clicks on the tab before he can protest. 

"Huh. Since when are you a romantic?" 

"Since never. Jesus Pidge, just leave it alone." Keith swipes the mouse from them and closes the tab. "It was nothing."

"Alright. Geez, I'll stop pestering you about it." They retreat back to the computer in the row before Keith. "For now."

Keith rolls his eyes and gathers his stuff, sending Shiro a text that he's ready to be picked up. There was no way he could start that project today anyway. "Ciao Pidge." Keith waves behind him, receiving a hum in response.

As Keith walked down the hallway to the parking lot to wait for Shiro, Keith glanced towards the men's bathroom a few rooms down from the algebra room. An unexpected but short lived smile crosses his face. 

Interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> just a couple of dudes being guys


End file.
